


Lightsaber In His Chest

by Demi_Fae



Series: Hollow Hearts [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, Gen, I tagged Obikin because yes, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, It is there, Its just not the focus, M/M, Suicide, Torture, but its never really brought up, like at all, so theyre together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24023152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demi_Fae/pseuds/Demi_Fae
Summary: When they captured him, there was little he could do. It was a sudden thing, too quick for him to even jerk out of the way before something stabbed into his neck.There was little he could do, everyone told him afterward.It doesn’t make it hurt any less.-Anakin’s been kidnapped before, you see. It’s always the same thing.This time is different.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Series: Hollow Hearts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724320
Comments: 6
Kudos: 106





	Lightsaber In His Chest

**Author's Note:**

> This can technically be read as a stand-alone, as this is pretty much 'Scars On His Neck' from Anakin's perspective. Scars will give you Obi-Wan's POV, plus some extra stuff after the end of this one. 
> 
> If you did not read the tags: Please do
> 
> If you did read the tags: Thank you! And yes, Obi-Wan and Anakin are together in this, in my mind, but like I said... Its not really the focus

When they captured him, there was little he could do. It was a sudden thing, too quick for him to even jerk out of the way before something stabbed into his neck. 

_ There was little he could do,  _ everyone told him afterward. 

It doesn’t make it hurt any less.

* * *

Anakin’s been kidnapped before, you see. It’s always the same thing: Demands, refusal, torture, rescue. 

To be honest, he’s gotten a little bored with it now. (Though he could do without the torture.)

This time’s slightly different, the torture comes first. 

It’s a slight break in routine, but nothing serious. It just means that whoever has taken him wants a ‘show of power’ or whatever first.

* * *

It’s been three days-  _ four?- _ by Anakin’s count when the leader finally shows up. He has the usual demands: Troop placements, numbers, plans of attack, etc. Anakin has to stop himself from rolling his eyes, even he knows it's not in his best interests to antagonize his captor. 

_ See, Obi-Wan, I can pay attention. Sometimes I even listen! _

However, Anakin might not have done a great job of hiding his annoyance (though he wasn’t trying that hard in the first place) because the man smirks. He makes some remarks about being bored of Anakin, that he’ll be back in a few days. 

Nothing terribly unusual, just… strange. 

~~ Anakin doesn’t want to admit he’s scared. ~~

* * *

Anakin had known something was wrong since he woke up, but he couldn’t place his finger on what exactly it was.

There were the same four dank walls and floor, a barred door- how original- and the cuffs Anakin was hanging from on the wall across from it. The cuffs were nothing special honestly- just holding him in place, they’d be easy enough to open-

That was when it hit him like a speeder. He had no access to the Force, not in this place. 

The bond that connected him to Obi-Wan, to his love, that glowed like a beacon in his mind, was gone. The one that connected him and Ahsoka, closer than most master-padawan pairs, had been taken alongside it. There was no connection to two of the most important people in his life, not here.

_ That drug must be messing with my head more than I thought, if I didin’t immediately realize they were gone. _

* * *

True to his word, the man comes back after a few days. Days that Anakin has hung from these chains, and let the- honestly vanilla- torture continue. He can take pretty much anything when he knows Obi-Wan is coming for him. This’ll take a week tops. 

The lack of threats is new, however. The man just stares at Anakin through the bars as Anakin’s torturer drags long cuts up Anakin’s torso. His tabards have long since been discarded, filthied by their owner’s blood.

The seed of fear that had taken root in Anakin’s mind grew. 

_ Now, you can actually begin.  _

That was when Anakin knew true terror.

* * *

See, apparantly the boss liked to have his guests welcomed before any festivities began. 

That was how he had explained it, anyway. 

The ‘real fun’ began when Anakin’s torturer had a tub of water drug in. Water was scarce on Tatooine, it was a desert world after all. People could be killed over a mouthful, and the sheer amount of the liquid when he came to Coruscant amazed him. 

And terrified him. 

Anakin was from a desert planet, where only the insanely rich and stupid would even consider to use their water for something other than drinking. (Anakin never really understood baths.)

More than that, the idea of enough water existing that a person could swim in it, for miles, eventually tiring themselves out enough to the point that they sink beneath the surface… Knowing that their death is coming, yet not being able to muster up the strength to fight their way toward air again… Only able to take their next breath and feel as their lungs fill with liquid that is not meant to be there, and knowing that their struggle was futile…

Anakin loves water, but he’s terrified of it. Terrified of drowning. 

So of course, that’s when the waterboarding begins.

* * *

When you’ve been captured as many times as Anakin has, fought as many times as he has, you build up a resistance to certain things. 

Cuts are easy enough to deal with, as long as they aren’t too deep or in a vital area. 

Stab wounds are more dangerous, but Anakin can power through those for a little while. 

Electrocution is another story. 

All pain hurts, but electricity is a different story. It feels like every atom in Anakin’s body is being shaken, torn apart. There’s no end, every second lasting an eternity, and he had nowhere to go. His muscles twitch sporadically and every muscle tenses like it’s going to try and wrench itself from Anakin’s very bones. 

It's a pain that he’ll never get used to, no matter how many times it happens, and it's made all the worse through the waterboarding Anakin went through earlier. 

In those spots the electricity is a thousand times worse, little suns burrowing into his skin. 

He wretches, and starts to wonder when it’ll end.

* * *

The next time the boss comes in- and Anakin’s starting to wonder when the real leader will show, not his messenger- he’s talking about cake, of all things. 

There’s no end to his rambling about this type over that, and how this cafe makes it so much sweeter than another, and Anakin would shut him up if every breath didn’t make his head swim. 

Finally, the boss cocks his head to the side and stares at Anakin. 

_ Not so strong now, are you, hero?  _ A smile breaks on his face, sick in its sincerity.  _ I do hope you are enjoying your stay? After all, we are breaking out the… finest accomodations for our treasured guest.  _

Anakin couldn’t have stopped the snort if his life depended on it. Which… it may have. 

_ Oh, yes, I absolutely adore the curtains. Synthsilk? _

Well. He was raised by Obi-Wan. Sarcasm was practically in his blood. 

_ Oh, there’s no need for harsh words, dear one! But if you really wish to leave so soon, please, don’t let me stop you! _ The man gestured behind himself and stepped out of the way.  _ But before you go… No matter how cheesy it sounds, you have something I want. Information.  _

Anakin snarled.  _ Go kriff yourself.  _

_ Ah, I suppose it was a long shot.  _ He sighed and walked out of the cell carelessly.  _ Just keep him alive. _

* * *

Anakin had lost track of time twenty stab wounds ago, after the third time he’d blacked out in a ‘session’. Even then, he knew that this had been the longest he’d ever been held captive. Either these guys were as good as they’d said, or-

_ No. Obi-Wan wouldn’t…  _ Anakin thought to himself.  _ But- The Chancellor said…  _

Anakin shook his head. Obi-Wan wouldn’t stop looking for him, wouldn’t have given up on Anakin like this. Not after all the things they’d been through, no after everything they’d shared. 

Anakin almost wished that the boss or his torturer would come back, just to give him a break from his thoughts.  _ Almost. _

* * *

The next time the boss arrived, he had an item in his hands that made Anakin freeze. On Tatooine, all slaves were implanted with chips that would blow them up at their master’s whim, or if they wandered too far. Collars, on the other hand, had many more options. Collars were expensive, and the slaves that wore them were valuable to their masters.

More often than not, it designated the slave as a personal plaything for their master, to be used in any way they wanted. It was torture for those who wished nothing more than to remain unnoticed. 

The boss held a collar in his hands, and a decade from Tattooine couldn’t erase a once-slave’s instincts. 

This collar may not have been the same as the ones he was used to seeing, but it signified the same thing. Ownership. 

As the boss motioned for Anakin to be let down from his cuffs on the wall, the sense of the Force came flooding back. For a second, Anakin could feel Obi-Wan in his mind, and he reached out on pure instinct to get his attention. He tried- If only he could tell him- 

But the collar snapped around Anakin’s throat with no resistance, and he was lost to the darkness once more. 

He couldn’t even try to fight them, and that touch of light so brutally torn away not a second later was just another layer or the torture he endured.

* * *

Some collars were meant for different things. This one, it seemed, was meant to be permanant. 

Anakin didn’t want to think about the implications of that. 

The collar had little barbs along the edge, which hooked into his neck as soon as it latched. They tugged at the delicate skin if he turned his head too fast, causing rivulets of blood to drip down his body. It, like the cuffs, was also a Force inhibitor. 

Not only had this place- these people- blocked his access to the Force, they had tortured him for… weeks? Months? With little to no food or water and his injuries on top of that, Anakin could barely keep himself upright, much less fight against whatever the boss had planned. 

When the boss had come in, he attached a thick chain to a ring on Anakin’s collar. The man took delight in watching the war hero stumble along after his lead, watching Anakin trip over his own feet every time he yanked on the chain. The added weight caused new lines of blood to trickle down his neck. 

Anakin would have taken more time to wonder at the situation if he hadn’t collapsed. 

Agony rang in his ears, shook his brain- Anakin could feel his hands reach up to scratch at his ears, his eyes, his scalp- Anything to stop the feeling of his brain trying to break out of his skull-

And the pain stopped.

Anakin laid on the floor, panting and shuddering, vision blurring. He saw a dark blur sasunter across the room and spread itself across the bench. 

_ He’s all yours. _

* * *

This type of pain was infinitely worse than anything Anakin had ever experienced, though he could name hundreds of things that were more painful. 

This type of pain left Anakin scratching at his own skin, wanting to rid himself of the filth that he could still imagine within him. It left long streaks of red across his skin and black on his heart. It was a violation of the worst kind, and his captors knew it. 

There was nothing left on Anakin’s skin but the evidence of his abuse and the colar that marked him as not his own. 

There was nothing left of Anakin but the broken hope of being rescued, and the acceptance of a broken man left abandoned.

* * *

There was no time for Anakin, not anymore. No, he measured his life in pain. 

There was the pain of his broken body, every time another person came into his cell. 

There was the pain of a broken mind, every time he was left alone with his thoughts. 

There was the pain of his broken heart, every time he allowed himself to think that he might escape, only for those thoughts to be crushed once again. 

His life was measured in different types of pain.

* * *

He wasn’t anything, really. He existed for his master’s pleasure, and an outlet for his master’s pain. A part of him screamed that  _ this wasn’t right  _ that  _ you are more _ to  _ not stop fighting- _

A burst of pain, from the whip held in his master’s hand. 

He was tired. He couldn’t remember… He was supposed to remember- What was his name- What was- He was-

Another lash.

He existed for his master’s pleasure, and for his pain. 

Another. 

His master often let

* * *

other people come

in his cell and have their fun. The first time it had happened, he had struggled for… some reason. 

He now knew it was useless, and there was less  _ painhurtacheagony _ if he let them do what they wanted to him- to his body. 

No, not his body. He didn’t own himself, not anymore… Maybe once he had, Before, but he didn’t remember that. Then. 

His master let these people in to please themselves, and he belonged to his master. 

He didn’t make a sound.

* * *

Of course, while many of his master’s guests pleased themselves with his body, others pleased themselves with his pain. There were whips and knives and electric prods and countless other tools used in his torture. 

There was no respite, even in his sleep he ached. Every time he awoke it was to a new wound, and every time he fell asleep it was on those that had not yet healed. Hurt was a constant companion in his life, the only one he knew. 

Every person entering his cell was a new tormenter, one whose goals he did not know. Would they be the type to carve out portions of his flesh, the type who wanted to hear his whimpers? Or would they be the type to force themselves on him, with no warning, over and over? Or worse, the kind to act like they cared about him?

It didn’t matter. He only existed to please his master. 

He wanted to scream. 

He couldn’t make a sound.

* * *

People coming into his cell was not uncommon, not anymore. So when this new man burst through the door, he just turned his head and waited for what he knew was going to come. 

To his surprise, the man didn’t touch him. Most did that, first, then-

He could see this man stand there, frozen for a second, before coming furthur into his cell. 

_ Skywalker?  _ He couldn’t stop himself from steadying himself- knowing what was going to happen- when the man reached out for him.  _ Are you alright?  _

One of those. He looked away and just waited- For the man to leave, for anything- He breathed, and let himself float away. 

_ Master Windu? Did you find him-  _ Another person- female, this time, and Twi’lek- entered.  _...Oh. Master- _

_ Is the way out cleared, Knight Secura?  _

_...Yes, Master.  _

_ Good. _

* * *

There’s warmth, when he finally wakes up. He didn’t know that that was a thing that still exsted, that his master would allow him. 

There’s no aching, either- or not as much as he’s used to, anyway. 

He tried to stay still, to not bring attention to himself, to try and bask in this comfort for a little longer- But it must not have worked. 

_ Knight Skywalker?  _ A voice, near his head. He didn’t let himself breathe, trying to get them to  _ go away- _

_ Knight Skwalker! You have to calm down! We’ll have to sedate him- _

And he was sinking back down, floating away.

* * *

There was a man near his bed. He was handsome, orange hair and beard. He looked exhausted. 

The man must have known that he had woken up, somehow, because he nearly ran towards him and grabbed his hand. 

The man had grabbed him, like so many other people had- there was no escape, not even here in this beautiful warm prison- he couldn’t breathe, he had to get away-

He pulled his hand back, and jerked away from the man who seemed familiar. 

The man might have called something out, too, but he was too far gone to hear it.

* * *

These people called him ‘Anakin’, but he didn’t know who that was. He didn’t have a name, his master told him so. 

He couldn’t find the words to tell these people that, though, so he just kept his head down.

These people also said wanted to help him. They wanted him to get better, to heal. 

He didn’t believe them, or their empty words. There were too many people who had promised him pleasure, promised him  _ a good time  _ to believe anyone, now. 

Now, he just wanted to be left alone. 

In peace.

* * *

There was something in his head. He didn’t know what it was. 

It felt warm- happy- a pulsing light always present in the back of his skull. It felt natural, like it should be there. 

He didn’t know what it was. His body might have been his master’s- his life- but his mind was the one place he could always retreat. When he let himself go, in his mind, the pain was muted and he could float freely. 

His mind was his own but he  _ didn’t know what this was.  _

So he pulled as far away from it as he could. If he couldn’t break this thing- If it wouldn’t leave- He would wall if off as best he could.

* * *

The man was back again. He had called himself Obi-Wan, taken him back to the man’s rooms. 

He said that these were their rooms, before- Well. Before. 

He almost believed the man- the rooms seemed familiar, just like the Obi-Wan himself did, but he had been burned far many times to let himself hope now. 

He stayed in his rooms- in  _ Anakin’s  _ rooms- as much as possible after that. He didn’t want to see the people who said that they wanted to help him. He just wanted to curl up under the soft blankets and let himself float freely away from this all for days. 

So he did.

* * *

He stayed near the window and stared out into the traffic all day, ignoring any attempts from the man or his companions to get him to talk. He simply… let go.

It was peaceful, at the window. The organized chaos, the noise, watching all the people go about their day. He usually sat here, watching. The man-  _ Obi-Wan, he said to call him Obi-Wan-  _ came up to him while he was drifting. He told him that he was leaving, shipped out for… some reason. 

He didn’t move. Why would he? He didn’t know this man, only remembering flashes from Before. Obi-Wan begged him to respond, to look at him. He just kept staring out the window. He could feel the man breaking down beside him, like he had so long ago. Before he accepted his fate. He hoped Obi-Wan would accept his fate, too. It hurt far less.

* * *

When Obi-Wan was gone, others usually stayed with him in the meantime. 

There was the girl, who sometimes left with Obi-Wan and sometimes didn’t. She called herself Ahsoka and told him that she knew ‘Anakin’ Before- when he was Anakin he and not himself. She was usually accompanied by another man by the name of Rex, who worked with Anakin. 

Still, there were others as well, like the woman he had met when he first woke up. They were there to make sure he healed properly, the ones who said that they wanted to help him. It seemed they came for him every few days, to try and get him to talk. To return to ‘normal’, this Anakin that they all knew. 

There were far too many people who knew Anakin and not him these days. It didn’t matter.

* * *

There were some days that were better than others. 

Most days he still curled up under a blanket and watched the Coruscanti traffic. Most days he never responded to the people who talked to him, not a muscle twitching. 

Other days, he almost remembered them. 

The ghost of a smile, the twitch of a lekku- it was water that was slipping between his fingers and out of his grasp, but it felt cool on his hands all the same. So on those days, he listened. 

He didn’t let his heart take him up and away, he didn’t let the words flow from one ear out the other. He even almost smiled, sometimes.

* * *

There were some days that were worse than others.

When the claws and fangs sunk too deeply in his mind, when he couldn’t escape their grasp. When his lungs couldn’t fill with enough air and his very skin seemed determined to sufforcate him. 

The less he thought about those days, the better.

* * *

Wandering this place seemed to help, a little. There was so much to explore, new yet familiar sights to see once again. Pieces came back, flashing every once in a while. Nothing that seemed too important, but he treasured them all the same. 

And one day, he found the spire. It was beautiful. 

He could see out across the entire city-world, it seemed. Night had fallen a long time ago and the sun had yet to rise. Stars glowed above him in the sky, twinkling things spread across the void, yet his eyes were drawn to the planet that glowed with inner life.

He longed to be a part of it.

* * *

It seemed he visited the spire every night he could sneak away, now. Many times the other man or the people in the halls stopped him, though he never stopped leaving. It was inevitable that one night, the man would follow him. 

That night, he was standing in the window to get a closer look at the light below. When Obi-Wan found him, the first thing he did was pull him off of the ledge. 

_ What were you thinking, dear one? If you fell- There was no way- _

He didn’t say anything, even as Obi-Wan clutched at his thin clothes and his shoulders heaved with sobs. There was no point. 

He wanted to leave, and never be tethered again.

* * *

Obi-Wan told him he was going to be gone for a little while, when he found it.

He wasn’t one to look around, normally, but the box seemed to sing, beckoning him with a siren’s call. It was locked, but he followed the whispers and waved a hand. To his surprise  _ (not surprise you know this power you know it itisyouyouknowthispoweritisyou)  _ it opened immediately. 

The thing in the box was silver, with black markings and buttons. He didn’t know it  _ (yes he did) _ , but it felt familiar and warm in his hand. 

_ A lightsaber,  _ his mind whispered. 

_ My lightsaber,  _ he croaked for the first time in his memory.

* * *

There was a lightsaber in his hands. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so if you read Scars, you know that Anakin killed himself at the end there. That being said, go read some fluff. Go take care of yourself- or if you're like me, read worse angst.   
> This also ended up... A lot longer than I thought it would? And it almost feels like I spent too much time breaking Anakin and barely any time at the Temple, but then I remembered: 11 months versus 3, two weeks of which were in a coma. Then it made more sense, while also highlighting how broken his mind is! I love it when my subconscious works harder than my writing brain.
> 
> You can yell at me on tumblr at [rynae-reblogs!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/rynae-reblogs)


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